Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st
Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame:
These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me
Oth. Peace, and be still
Des. I will so: What's the matter?
Oth. That Handkerchiefe
Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio
Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man,
And aske him
Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury,
Thou art on thy death-bed
Des. I, but not yet to dye
Oth. Presently.
Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne:
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception
That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye
Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me
Oth. I say, Amen